Unsteady
by Valexian rose
Summary: Tobias wants nothing to do with Tris after the war, won't look at her, so much as let her touch him. Being messed up he leaves her, claiming to get himself together. Tris shuts herself away, and given time to think, she realizes that there was more than one lover in her life. Peter, is taking therapy and disciplinary classes, now a changed man he meets up with Tris to apologize.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a slight Petris One-Shot, though I might be willing to continue it. It's just a drab, and if you don't like it then that's fine. I love all of the Divergent characters (yes, even the bad ones) and Tris could really be paired with anyone. But enjoy. **

It was like a normal morning for us, well, as normal as we could get after what we'd seen and gone through. Tobias was sitting on the couch, head in his hands covering his bloodshot eyes. He had left my side somewhere around 3, I'm assuming because he had another nightmare. By the looks of it he hadn't gotten any sleep, though he hadn't been getting sleep for months now. Either he was stuck in fatigue and remembrance, or he didn't want to put in the effort to notice me standing in the doorway. With a silent sigh I walked over to him, kneeling in front of him. His hair was tousled and unwashed, but I didn't mind. "Tobias?" I whispered, it was always me that got him out of his daze. His body moved but his mind didn't, "Tobias, it's me, Tris," I soothe, wanting to touch him, but knowing he won't allow it I refrain from doing so. "Tris," He grumbles, his voice gravel in his throat, "What are you doing out here?" He lowers his hands, so his fingertips touch his jaw. His blue eyes are sad, pleading. I know he wants to forget, I do too, but I won't. "Tobias, it's 6 in the morning," He nods slowly, I stand and walk to the kitchen. Pulling out ingredients for breakfast.

"You have to go to work soon," He says making me pause. He's right, I'll be late if I make breakfast right now, but that's not what alarms me. The fact that he's paid attention to me while he's not really there is what confuses me. "Yes," I say slowly, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm, sort of here," I bite my lip and listen to him, "But I think we need to talk," I taste blood then. A huff out a short curse and run my tongue along my bottom lip, feeling the raw skin and liquid blood. I must have been focused because I feel his body next to mine, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his heat. I turn in surprise and look at him, but his hand is light on my arm and his other touches my chin, his thumb brushing my lip. I feel my body freeze and eyes widen, he hasn't touched me for a month, at all. His fingers are fire against my skin and I melt against his touch. But as quickly as it was there it was gone.

His hands now at his sides, I look at him with a sort of sorrow that I struggle to suppress, "Don't look at me like that, I can't be what you need anymore Tris," He huffs out, a look of pain crosses his face. "I know, I can't recover, I don't see the need to pull through Tris. I want to touch you, I want to be normal again, but every time I try, just, Uriah, and, everything," He gets frustrated the more he talks, pausing more, to push down his anger. I cut the burners and avoid looking at him, "Do you want me to leave? Is that what you're asking?" I struggle to speak. He doesn't even try to, and I suppose thats my answer. I straighten and lock down everything, my gaze meets his, "I need to get myself together, when I do, I'll come and find you," I give him a curt nod and walk back to our-no, his, room. Packing my things and changing, my mind screaming to put up a fight against leaving but, I can't do anything for him as he's said.

At the door with everything of mine packed, he looks at me. "I'm sorry Tris,"

"Are you sure of this?"

"I'm soft! Tris! I can't get over any of this because I'm weak! I can't even stand you being next to me let alone watch you go through the motions! I can't have you around me anymore Tris so just leave!" He snaps like a stick of TNT. Fully aware of the tears down my cheeks I nod curtly, looking away from him and walk out the door. Not bothering to look back because after that I know he's not coming after me.

That was eight months ago. Now it's been about a year since the war, I haven't gotten word from Four, then again, I didn't expect to.

I moved to the far end of the city, quitting my old job and getting a part time as a waitress by day, and a bartender by night. Amazed that these positions still existed because most of the buildings were destroyed. Another amazing thing was that Christina lived near me, though she still had a hard time getting over Will, she could talk to me finally. We had gotten over some of the things we'd said and done to each other and in the past and were friends again. I explained to her why I was alone and she officially declared me single. She gave me moments to smile at.

It was about a month that I was working as a waitress when another familiar face walked in. To say that it was a shock would be an understatement, because upon seeing him I dropped a plate full of food and coffee. His hair as black as the coffee I had spilled, was nicely combed though it was short. His green eyes dark as a lush jungle and his face clean shaven. To say that he looked much better would also be an understatement. Peter Hayes looked like perfection in my drab world. He turned in my direction and I quickly took to avoiding his gaze, and cleaning up the mess I made. He got a table for one and I apologized to my customers. After being yelled at by the cook and being scolded by my boss, I was assigned to his table.

In hopes that he won't recognize me I clear my throat and switch my accent to that of a woman from Great Britain. "What can I do for you?" I ask, pen and pad in my hands. He overlooks the menu for a moment, his dark brows furrowing. "Id like a ham and cheese omelet and your work hours," I pause and look at him, seeing him with a familiar smirk, but instead of malicious it's relatively friendly. "Hey Tris," He says,

"Hey, Peter," I say back, dropping the accent, "You look well,"

"So do you," I'm about to ask him what he's doing here but my boss interrupts me,

"Tris, I pay you to work, not socialize," I bite my lip and send a glare her way, my cheeks blushing furiously, "I'll be right back with your order."

It's an hour or maybe a little more before I get my break, to which he accompanied me on. His hand resting at the small of my back after I changed out of my work clothes. We weren't really heading anywhere so we just walked down the street and talked, the first few minutes filled with silence that was difficult to carry but was comfortable all the same. His touch on me was light and gentle, something foreign considering our past. Another thing I noticed was how his face was always struggling to hold back a smile, his lips perfect for a smirk or grin.

I won't deny that I had an attraction for him before Four and I got serious, before he tried to kill me. Peter was that bad boy in my life, the one that everyone told you to stay away from because they were nothing but trouble. I went over to him for a little while, alone, Peter wasn't such a bad person, and during my captivity with Jeannie he and I talked a little. Okay, talked a lot, and I noticed the side glances he would give me. He made me feel warm when I had cold concrete walls around me, he took some of the warmth that Four gave me and made it his own. I didn't mind that, "What are you doing here?" I ask him, keeping my tone light,

"I'm looking for you," I feel my cheeks get warm.

"Why?" I ask, being direct is the surest path I could take right now, understanding this he smiles and chuckles. It's soft and deep. "How've you been Tris?" I notice he used my name again, over with the 'Stiff' nickname I guess. I give him a little shrug, attempting to keep all of this short because I haven't had an actual conversation with anyone else but Christina. He looks at me, his lush eyes boring into mine, "C'mon Tris, how's Four, or Tobias?" The name sounding alien on his tongue I frown a bit, "I haven't heard from Four in eight months," I tell him. He pauses in his tracks, "What?" He whispers, though it sounds more aggressive than what I had initially expected. I think him to say something negative or scoff and badmouth him, but again he surprises me, "Are you okay?" I look at him funny, Peter looks genuinely concerned, his eyes are trailing along my face, down to my lips, then my eyes and paying attention to my messy ponytail. I nod, wetting my lips, aware of his eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine," His brows furrow again, "Are you sure?" He asks, and he's looking to see if I'm lying, my ice eyes lock with his, which swim with warmth. I notice both his hands cup my face and mine rest on his forearms, the heat of his body spreading through me and dripping down like honey to all my cracks that I've tried so desperately to repair and hide.

I hear my name being called and I open my eyes, not realizing that I closed them. His face screams worry, "Yes, I'm okay," I manage a small smile, reveling in the warmth of him. My past attraction for this man crawling up my legs and clawing at my heart, tickling an emotion in me that I haven't felt for about eight months. Then for the first time in a long time, I wonder what it would feel like for his soft looking lips to be on mine. His eyes search mine and I almost wish he could see that want, but I don't think he does, because he notices the way he's touching me.

I miss his warmth as soon as he removes his hands, he looks down, struggling to hide the embarrassed blush that quickly spreads across his face. We start walking again, in silence, though I can tell he's deciding what to ask because his lips move in a silent debate with himself. He looks at me after a while and takes a breath, staring at me with something in his eyes that I saw in Fours for a while. Adoration. "I came to apologize to you," I feel my head tilt and my brows furrow in confusion, "I've done some bad things in my 19 years of life and I can't tell you how much I regret doing them, I've hurt a lot of people, including you, and I'd enjoyed it too, but at the end of the day I always questioned what was wrong with me," I watch him and the way he holds himself, fear is something I smell on him, like spice and the crackle of ashes and a burning fire, but maybe thats the anger evident on his face as well. Is he afraid of my reaction to this confession? Or is it something else?

However knowing him it could be something else because he wouldn't care about what I think of him, but I might be wrong there too because why else would he be here, wasting his time with me, struggling to find the right words of an explanation, if he didn't care for my opinion of him? He continues, his deep warm voice wavering, "I wanted to tell you that I've been working with a lot of professionals since the war. Learning how to control myself and my anger, I've been taking disciplinary classes to lock down the side of me that everyone hates. I don't want to be like I was, I wanted to start over, so I did, and I'm working on it. I'm not the same, Peter, you went through initiation with, I'm not the same kid who tried to throw you over the chasm. I'm sorry I ever hurt you Tris, and I'm doing whatever I can to make sure I don't do it again," I stare at him, my mouth slightly agape, shocked and pleasantly surprised at his hard work. "I guess, I'm also asking if we could start over?" I blink, happiness welling up inside me and tears surfacing, I battle internally to hold it all back. Since the beginning of initiation, I had hoped he would stop being such a post pubescent hormonal fiend and snap to the young gentleman he always had potential to be. I had hoped that he would also be my friend, and seen as things went the way they did, the fact that Peter is proposing this, thrills me beyond belief.

A smile forms and a giggle escapes my lips, his eyes light up and I nod. Walking over and warranting an interaction I never had expected to exchange with him. We embraced each other, him smiling into my hair as my face was securely nuzzled into his collar and neck. "I forgive you," I mumble into him, I feel him squeeze me tighter, but it's a good, close, warm feeling. His heart beat is erratic against my body and I don't stop the tears from falling. For a boy who is now a man, for someone that I've been infatuated with behind closed doors. Who now has changed for the greater good and sought me out on his own time, the feeling of him wrapped protectively around me, while a first, is something that I never want to lose.

Meanwhile a flicker of hope chimes inside me like soft music turning upbeat, saying 'Maybe now you can love him,' I smile more at the thought, gripping the back of his shirt. 'Maybe now he can know that you do,' I quite like the notion of that.

Then his voice is soft in my ear, "It's a pleasure to meet you Tris."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, I know it's only been three days since I first posted this, and I declared it was a one-shot, but the positive feedback fed a spark and I fell in love with this story, much like a fire would keep you warm if you fed it lot's of wood. Lights, is in the making, though it's difficult to work out of your element, and because of that, I wrote this as a break. My prediction is, five chapters before it's completed. **

It had been a few weeks since Peter's confession and my words of forgiveness. Thinking back on the day when my current one wasn't the best, always made me hum and sigh quietly, pushing away the rainclouds above me by the warmth that he gave me. Peter was a character I had recurring thoughts of when spending some time alone, which filled my not so delicate schedule of time when I wasn't working. Another thing that Peter had decided to do, due to our agreement to start over, was to visit my daily workplace and pick me up right when my shift ended. Like clockwork he showed up, sometimes on my lunch break. Seeing him standing near the door or sitting at the bar waiting for me, always brought a content smile to my lips.

Eventually, Christina picked up on my sudden happiness and demanded information from me, I fed her vague facts, well, very very vague facts. The only thing I had really given to her, was that I met a guy, and it wasn't really a lie, Peter once again, swiftly became a familiar stranger. It was at rare occasion where I would see him visibly tense and a harsh glare fuel his eyes when another guy talked to me. I was close enough to him to understand his actions were out of jealousy, but my comprehension of him stops there. Peter had picked up my fascination again, and I wanted nothing more than to indulge in his presence in all ways imaginable. The thought of his touch on my bare skin sent jolts down my spine and I'll admit I had thought of him in ways that I wasn't supposed to if he was just my friend. While unfortunate for my yearning body, our distance kept my mind in a stable enough state to respond to his questions. To work without being too distracted, without being captivated by his watchful eyes on me for the few minutes left of my working.

I assumed that we were only friends, that was, until today. I had just finished changing out of my work clothes, getting ready to go home as the sun grew closer to setting, and was heading out the door when my eyes caught Peter. Still as dashing as ever, standing in the restaurant holding an assortment bouquet of white flowers to his chest. I took this shocked moment of mine to take in how finely dressed he was. His eyes were cast down at the floor, his dark hair looking so soft that it might be hard for me to resist running my fingers through it. Then I noticed his nervous posture and smirked to myself. His attempt at being cool and well collected was perfect to anyone else but me. He held his expression too neutral, his right hand gripping the table, that he was leaned against, a little too hard. I almost wanted to laugh, but instead I broke into another smile and swiftly made my way towards his cracking form.

His rich green eyes caught my body and he visibly relaxed, "Peter," I acknowledge him, a hint of a question on my lips, my eyes traveling obviously from his face, to his suit, to the pure white flowers he held, and finally back to his clean shaven face. He wet his lips as his eyes met my curious orbs of ice, "It's been a few weeks now, since we've started over," He says quietly so only I can hear, both of us aware of prodding onlookers. I take a half step closer, placing my hands over his, holding both his hand and the bouquet, "I realized a few days ago that we only ever met while you were working, that we never went anywhere nice," His eyes slowly traveling along my face, his hand getting warmer under my own, "So, Tris, would you accompany me somewhere nice for once, as a date?" He whispers the last part, as if he didn't rehearse it, only adding it now that he's standing in front of me. At this, I almost want to squeal at his request, but I stop myself short. Only allowing a regretful smile, remembering that I have an early shift tonight at the bar. Peter, always keen on observation, notices the sudden ripple in the atmosphere and looks at me, his eyebrows lifted and scrunched in worry, his free hand is gently holding my upper arm, "What's wrong, Tris?" He asks me,

"Peter, I would love to go with you," I admit, his face relaxes the slightest bit, "However, I'm afraid that I have an earlier shift at the bar tonight, and I don't have the time to go to dinner with you. I'm sorry," I explain to him. My eyes find his face, and I catch the look of sadness before it's replaced by a small smile. I suppose he was really looking forward to going out tonight. Seeing my face, he smiles wider before he asks me, "What time do you get off?" I look at him, confused for a moment before answering, "At eleven," He nods and pulls me close into his chest, his warmth encases me like a protective cocoon of affection. I turn my head slightly, pressing my face into his chest, breathing in his scent. It's oddly addicting, the smell of cold metal and mint, the slightest hint of after shave present as well. When he speaks, his chest rumbles soothingly, discreetly I marvel at the feeling, "The place I wanted to take you closes at two, I can push the reservation back," Out of shock I pull back from his careful hold on me, enough to look up at his face, "It might be a little tight," He admits, his breath smelling of chemical mint, I grin internally at the image of him brushing his teeth and making everything perfect for this occasion. Peter continues, holding me a little tighter, "I think, our safest bet, would have you pack something formal but not too flashy for after work, and I could drive you to work and pick you up when your shifts up,"

"You'll have to follow me to my apartment, I drove here today, I had errands to run this morning," I tell him, he shakes his head slightly and looks at my lips. On habit I wet them and bite my bottom lip. Now, it is painfully obvious that we could be a couple, our bodies are pressed together in an embrace that he holds me in an almost lovingly fashion. Faces only a few inches apart, my gaze flickers to his eyes, and I see it again. Adoration. I can almost feel myself leaning up closer to him, wanting to taste his lips and experience the unique feel they will give me. But then, horribly, my mind comes up with an excuse to make me stop, his rejection. I look down, focusing on the collar of his suit, he didn't wear a tie, and for some reason that makes me smile. Despite the growing feeling of sadness at the lack of more between us, but there shouldn't be any more there to begin with. I find myself repeating that as a mantra more and more, as his presence near me becomes frequent. "Peter," I mumble softly, afraid of what he will say or do, no doubt by now he has taken an immense notice in my advances.

Fear grips me like I would a knife before throwing it, I half expect him to release me and turn away in disgust, but his arms have not moved, and I think for a moment that he is too shocked to react. Something in the back of my mind whispers that he might not have noticed at all, that's quickly dismissed when he pulls back, not yet letting go, but not pressing to me any longer. I refrain from pouting by biting my lip. "Tris?" I hear him question, without meeting his eyes, or even looking up from the floor, I hold the flowers he got me close to my chest and shake my head. Disappointed in myself for my uncanny actions, I mumble to him, "Lets go," He follows me out the door, getting into his black sports Nissan as I get into my beat up Mitsubishi Lancer.

I wage war within myself, struggling, not for the first time, to hold back the emotions he elicits from me in the most pleasing ways. I force back a groan of frustration, that threatens to escape through my teeth. It dawns on me, the source of my frustration, is the common double edged blade, fear. Pondering what I could be afraid of, I arrive at the conclusion of my own intentions. They will be the end of me, my love and lust for Peter Hayes will be the definite end of me. All too soon, I pull up to the curb in front of my apartment, the building appearing brooding and cold. Tearing my gaze away from it, my eyes land on the cotton white flowers he sought out to bestow to me. I immediately recognize the white larkspur, and the queen annes lace, it takes a moment for me to see the jasmine and tuberose. The meanings ringing in my ears like my mothers voice, as she is the one who taught me of these and of many others, the collection meaning, beautiful spirit, delicate femininity, grace and elegance, and pleasure. It occurs to me that he might have put sincere thought into singling out this assortment of flowers. Clearly seeking to define what he sees in me, now or from the very start, I have no clue. I choose not to puzzle over his intentions.

The walk to meet Peter is short, his eyes flicker with something disparate to his coldness towards anyone else, at the sight of the white flowers in my hands. A smile finds our lips and he walks with his hand at the small of my back, my urgent emotions and mental drabbles from not two minutes ago, are eased away by his touch. I try to ignore the persistent twitching in his left hand as we walk, he tends to absentmindedly twitch when he's in deep thought. I have all faith in me, that he is thinking about the restaurant incident. Again, I lack the information needed to keep me calm, because again, I question if he saw, if he wanted to as bad as I did.

Soon we're in my apartment, suddenly I'm relieved to have cleaned this morning. Peter stands in the small area between the kitchen and livingroom, just taking in my living space, most likely judging how I live. Timidly I walk up behind him, placing my hands on his upper back, he relaxes at my touch, my hands glide up his fine suit jacket to his shoulders. "May I take this?" I ask him softly, Peter bows his head slightly as I pull off the jacket gently. His shirt is white under his black dress coat, a smirk tugs at my lips, Candor colors. I turn and hang it up with care on the coat hanger at the closet next to the front door. "Do you live alone?" He asks me, I nod,

"I don't want to annoy people with my hours or my antics," Peter smirks and shakes his head, mumbling under his breath something I wasn't supposed to catch, "Well Tris you don't annoy me," Pushing back a heated blush I walk past him, into the kitchen. Picking a small vase and filling it with water, I put it on the raised counter, the flowers striking as a bright vendition to my earthly toned apartment. Striding into my room, flicking on the light, and grabbing a bag, making note of his figure leaning against the doorway. I glance back at him, catching the way he watches me and my motions. His eyes aren't predatory, if anything, they're alert and protective. Igniting a feeling of safety when he's around, then I notice the way his arms cross over his chest and the tense muscle in his shoulders and back, either he wants something and is holding back, or he's about to say something that we might not like to discuss.

I don't allow him to see the dress, or the shoes, let alone the underclothes, and quickly put little accessories into the bag. Zipping it up and grabbing black clothing, I slide into my bathroom and close the door, keeping him from seeing. While I feel nothing but comfort with Peter, I remind myself that we're just friends, and that he's taking me out to a restaurant because he wants to get to know me better. I glance at myself in the mirror, since the war it became apparent that I grew a few sizes and gained a curvaceous figure. I look like a woman, like the 19 year old that I am, rather than a twelve year old girl. The thought makes me smile.

Rejoining Peter in my room, I see he's taken the liberty of sitting on my bed. Well, more so as lying back on it, his body relaxed and his head turned to the side. He almost looks like he's sleeping, the steady rise and fall of his chest making me want to join him. My feet carry me to him, my knee presses down into the mattress, "Peter?" I whisper, not wanting to break his tranquil state, his features soft giving the illusion of extreme youth. His eyes open slowly, he turns his head, looking at my face directly. "Tris," He mumbles, smiling I nod, "Are you ready to go Peter?"

"Yeah," He mumbles, his eyes locking with mine. The air thickens, and suddenly it's hard to breathe, then my hand gets warm and I realize that I've placed it on his jaw. He speaks, drawing me closer, "Do we have to go right now?" I giggle, allowing myself the simple pleasure of feeling him close to me. My heart and brain conflict with each other as my body holds a will of it's own, I do something brave then, my lips press to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth to let him know that I'd love more. I hear the breath leave his lungs at the gentle touch. His hands have moved to my waist, leaving heat to seep through my body like rain and humidity would get you to shiver. And while this is a simple kiss on the cheek, it was enough for me. His skin firm but smooth, and the level of control it took for me not to actually kiss him was insane.

I pulled away to catch a glimpse of his reaction, his eyes were wider, the image of shock plastered to his features. Then the severity of my actions sinks in, dread rips at my heart and fear once again clouds my mind. I bite my lip and anticipate his next move, "Tris," He says, I get off of him, and stand in my room, eyeing the door. Wondering if I really need to bolt or not, because by the tone of his voice, the experience wasn't as pleasant for him, as it was for me. The bed creaks a little from the shift in weight as he sits up. "Tris," His voice, while deep, gives off a pleading air. I struggle with the knot in my throat, but I turn and face him anyway. The sight of him igniting a wildfire in me. His clothes disheveled and hair messy, his eyes alert but slightly saddened. His hands grip the bedsheets, as if he were afraid he couldn't control them. "I'm sorry Peter, let's just go," He doesn't object.

Grabbing my things and changing my shoes into converse, I grab a coat and my keys. Peter follows suit, looking much more well kept. Wordlessly I assisted him with his coat. We were in his car before I knew it, not wanting to see the questioning glances I knew he was shooting at me, I stared absentmindedly out the window. At the darkening sky, at the blurred lights as we sped by. He pulled up to the club that I worked at and parked some twenty minutes after driving. Only now did I look at him.

His hands grip the steering wheel so hard the whites of his knuckles showed, his eyes cast at the bar, unfocused. He looks incredibly handsome in the faint orange light of the lamp outside. Shadows hug his features, showing his defined cheekbones, the crease that his brow has, scars, that wouldn't be noticeable unless you paid as much attention to him as I did. Curiosity drives me to touch them, discipline commands me to compose myself. He kills the engine and I reach for the lock on the door, but his hand stops me. His fingers wrap around my wrist, his hold on me is gentle. "Peter, I have to go," I say, pulling from him, denying myself the stimulation his touch gives me. He lets me go and I waste no time getting out of the car, hoping to avoid an unwanted discussion about my attraction to him.

I hear his door open and close as well, then his hands are on me, not in an unpleasant way, but urgent. "Tris?" I whip around to look at him, and just like that my face is nuzzled into his chest and neck as he holds me close to his body. "Peter," My voice coming out strangled. The pressure in my body builds up to my throat, squeezing and making it difficult to breathe. "I'll see you later, okay?" He asks, I only nod, his voice easing away my concerns and paranoid thoughts, "It'll be sooner than you know," He murmurs into my hair, we stay like that for a while, his arms tight and firm around me like he's afraid if he lets go, he'll never see me again. My face nuzzled into his warm chest with my eyes closed, the chill of the night holding no effect on me because of him. I pull away, and look up into his eyes hopeful, to see them gazing down at me in a comforting manner, "Thank you," I whisper, he brings his hand up to cup my face and smiles. A genuine smile that he only seems to give me. For that, I only feel privileged.


	3. Chapter 3

Work at the bar went as always, loud, busy, and all around annoying. Due to my no longer petite body, I gained an obnoxious amount of men begging for my number. And, as always, I turned them down with their drink and a polite smile. Tonight, being a saturday night, was one of the busiest, the DJ knew no bounds when it came to sound, and most nights, I figured the walls were shaking into crumbles. Luckily, I didn't face this interesting gathering of perspiration doused drunkards alone, Lauren, imagine that, was also here tonight. Which was both good and bad, her attitude towards me had never gotten lighter, nor the least bit friendly, so she tended to be painstakingly difficult to work with. The bright side was that with two women, might I say attractive women working, the club always gained a large amount of tips. From us. Meaning we get paid more at the end of the night, and I have yet to turn that, almost three-hundred dollars of cash, down.

Everything was rolling as a normal saturday night would, with the occasional disruption from a way too drunk guy, or a girl who got a little too frisky on the dance floor. That is, until two hours into my shift, I saw a face I haven't seen in nine months. A face I didn't ever expect to see again, and was beginning to wish that I wouldn't ever again. But like all impossibilities, he was there, not quite looking at me, but asking for a drink. Tobias Eaton, the boy who left me, is ruining his life by clubbing and talking to a busty redhead who's too drunk to tell left from right. "A shot of Patron," He orders, placing down a twenty on the counter, "I'll be coming back for whatever that twenty can get me," Wordlessly, I take the money and write down his tab, then pour his drink and place it down on the counter with a red square napkin.

Without actually acknowledging me, he takes the drink and downs it like any other, I always knew that Four drank, and I've encountered him drunk multiple times when I lived with him. To say that he was pleasant while deeply intoxicated would be a straight up lie. I stood and watched him drink it, as that is my job, and he sets the glass down, before he swallows, turning and facing me. Seeing me must have been an unpleasant shock because he near spits out his drink on me. I am aware of my aggressive posture, my hips locked with one leg bent, my arms crossed and the last thing on my face would be called a smile. To say I hold the appearance of displeasure, would be an accurate observation.

Four made no move at being discrete observing my body, it appalled me and disturbed me how ungentlemanly he had become. I resisted the urge to frantically cover what little skin I showed, "Tris?" He stuttered, talking rather loudly due to the blaring music. I only frowned, "To you, its Six," Blinking in shock, he continues to ogle my body, Four had lost my eyes when I gained a job here, seeing both beautiful people and the most unattractive all the time, made me lose appreciation for his marble features. Not that I wanted to. Not since Peter walked in on my life, at the thought of him my heart skips but pangs deep in my chest. Peter spoiled me for other men, and Four was acting far from what a man would. "I didn't know you worked here," He said, I had no interest in small talk, I know that something in me should sing for my former lover, but the only thing I could recall was his fury and my hurt. He shattered me when I was teetering on cracked glass, struggling everyday for his sake. He was never grateful.

For once my mind, body, and emotions worked together, biting back profanities and attempting professionalism I speak, "Gotten over your mental lack of personal tithe I see?" Flicking my ice eyes to his hand on the redhead. He glanced at her, then removed his hand as if she burnt him. "By your surprise and your physical advances on her, I'm guessing that she isn't the first girl you've associated yourself with since I left?" But I didn't really care about his current or past romantic relationships, I just wanted to see him squirm. He avoided my eyes and clenched his jaw, he always had trouble controlling himself in agitating situations. "I also assume that you had no intentions in finding me soon," I state, knowing full well that he's regretting choosing this club already. Honestly I didn't care if he sought me out, not after nine months now, stopped caring entirely at six months. At my annoyed statement, Four locked eyes with me, his blue eyes black as coals, that held a silent rage. I wasn't scared, I went through a war, killed tyrants, lived, and moved on. Four was the last thing that peaked my fear.

He did the predictable, he leaned in and continued to glare at me, hissing, "Careful, Tris," Right then and there my months of training in Dauntless, threatened to kick in. I resisted the urge to be childish and throw a hissy fit of punches and profanities. So instead of spitting in his face and stomping off, I gave him a smirk, which was more like a snarl, the way I only pulled the left corner of my lips and flashed my teeth. My actions being perceived like that of a wolf, baring it's teeth and crinkling it's nose, giving off a territorial warning. This was the only time I would warn him, because by the next, we would be out back, with my fists bloody, and his body broken. "I find, that there is nothing to take care of, let alone caution or fear," I tell him. His expression changes from serious to rage. I can tell he's about to say something, but Lauren walks up, "Are you bothering my co-worker, Four?" He stiffens, realizing that it wouldn't be wise to take both Lauren and I on. He seethes utter frustration at us before walking away from the bar.

After a few minutes, my alert bristling subsides, Lauren, still next to me, casts me a glance before she mumbles, "Keep your eyes open Tris," I offer a nod. The rest of my shift is spent attentive and alert, fully aware of the burning anger in me. Anger towards Four at his wasted immaturity. Time not being on my side passed slowly, but eventually my shift ended, and I was waiting for Peter out front, the cold licking at my bare skin, making me pull my jacket closer. The breeze is calming despite it's bite, but something feels off almost, predatory, just foul in the air. My senses kicked in on time because suddenly Four was grabbing me and pushing me against the wall.

I let out a furious yell and shove him off of me, not holding back the curses when I see the look in his dark eyes. So foreign compared to how they used to look, "What the hell is wrong with you?" I growl, then his hands are gripping my arms hard enough to bruise me and I'm shoved into the wall again, "Who said you had the right to talk to me like that?" He hissed menacingly. It only takes his tone, I now understand that Four isn't the same. Sure he changed, but all notions of care and loving pleasantries are gone. Now, I'm dealing with a monster in the form of a man. A man that shows no resolve against punishing me, for something I wasn't the cause of. My mind snaps to what he said, "You did," He looks conflicted for only a second before he presses his arm harder on my collar, "When you decided that I was an annoyance, you were clearly over sympathetic words and care from me," He pulled back his lip, about to say something against it, but then we're blinded. I hear a car door open and suddenly Four is ripped from me, not in once piece however, his hand gripped my jacket and pulled me to the dark asphalt.

I'm up in a second, by catching myself and my muscles recoiling like a spring, I'm on my feet in just a moment. The sight before me is the opposite of the chasm incident. Peter, holds Four by the collar of his shirt lifting him slightly up from the ground, only to pummel Four's face with his already red fist. I'm so mesmerized by the sheer power and static energy coming from Peter, that I don't react right away. But then the sense of urgency kicks and and I lurch into action, I'm screaming Peters name and am by his side in an instant, he pulls back from Four and whips at me violently, he defines rage and for a second, I'm worried he'll attack me. "Peter," I say soothingly, he stands there, panting, his chest heaving from exhilaration, his hands clenching into fists tighter as adrenaline is his blood, his beautiful eyes wild and angry. I've never seen him like this, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. "Peter, you won, I'm okay," I say to him softly, it takes him a moment to realize that it's my voice he's hearing. And when he does, his eyes soften. Taking a cautious step towards him, I hold my hands out. Still trusting this man who practically jumped out of a moving car to protect me. "Peter, can you hear me? Are you there?" I ask him gently, his eyes find my body, my small body that aches to be embraced by him. He nods, ever so slightly, that I almost miss it. A small smile finds my face when I'm closer, he speaks, voice like gravel and wavering, loose like unraveling yarn, "I'm here," He mumbles. My hands touch his chest lightly, but firm enough to let him know I'm there, until they slide around his torso to his back. I hug him until I feel him relax, not by much, but enough to let me know he's under control. Pulling away from him slowly, marching over to the body on the ground and kicking Four in the side as Peter collects himself. Four groans and scampers up, but not before I grab his hair and threaten him, "If I ever see your face again, you'll be six feet under, and Peter won't be the one putting you there," He tenses under me and I shove down his head. He quickly gets up and just about sprints away from us.

I go and grab my bag as if what happened was a normality, when I turn and approach Peter, I notice he hasn't moved. My heart, still pounding in my chest squeezes with worry. "Peter?" He looks at me, though he seems dazed, here, but not here. He must be struggling with himself, his eyes focus on me too long and I see that's the case. I slide my left hand into his right, which has relaxed out of his white knuckled rage. His head snaps to me, his green eyes wide like he's really finally, seeing me there. In silence I lead him to his car, about to open the passenger side door when he turns me around. I gasp in surprise at his sudden awareness of me, but I'm stopped short when my body is pressed between him and his car, and his lips collide with mine.

Sweet, firm, passionate, and deep, he kisses me like he never will again. At the instant collision of our bodies and emotions a small moan rises from my throat. His hands cup my face, one of them sliding back into my hair when he kisses me harder. I'm so confused and shocked but he feels too good for me to care. Heat ignites in me again, always from his touch and fire spreads down my back. My hands grip the front of his coat, because I'm afraid I'll fall from bliss. His lips move against mine softer now, I'm more than happy at the pace, then his tongue rubs at my bottom lip and I mewl in both pleasure and surprise. My hands shaking now, I grip his coat tighter to steady myself.

Then he pulls away, his soft lips leaving mine almost makes me want to protest but I don't. I hear both of us breathless, leaning my head back and not bothering to open my eyes I feel my heart and his, beating erratically in our chests through our clothes, reveling in the excitement. His hands move from my hand to the roof of the car, then his forehead presses to the crook of my neck, and his hot breath carresses my bare skin, allowing me to shiver. We don't move, enjoying the feel of each other pressed so closely, so intimately. My mind is about to start running with the questions, but his soft deep voice breaks the trend, "I was so scared Tris," At first I don't understand, my silence willing him to continue, "I was running late because of the reservation, I drove as fast as I could, when I saw him get force you against the wall, saw him hurt you, I lost it. I was so scared that I hadn't arrived on time, Tris I was afraid I was too late," His words heavy with fear, he sounded like he was struggling not to cry.

Acid rubbed the back of my eyes and I shifted, making him look up, my hands cupping his jaw, my thumb rubbing away the tears from his red face. My lips play a gentle smile as I speak, "Peter, you got here in time. I'm okay, you saved me," His eyebrows still pulled together in concern I smile and lean in, pressing my lips gently to his again, a reassuring kiss. A loving kiss, and while short, it's enough for him to hold me and calm down. Once again, as it is always welcomed, we stay in the warm embrace, only feelings of comfort, love, adoration, and deep compassion swimming in the air around us. I never want the feeling of his arms around me to go away, but sadly we still stand in the nearly black parking lot of the club I work at, pressed to the side of his humming car. I let out a giggle, and he reads my mind, pressing a firm kiss to my hairline he lets me go to open my door and grab my bag for me. I grin at his gentlemanly actions and get in, watching him close the door and toss the duffel bag in the trunk. Soon he's in the drivers seat, shifting the car in reverse before pulling it back into drive, as we move into the street. "Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we go back to my place, so I could take a shower?" I ask him, while I packed a set of under clothes along with my dress, I still wanted to be in the security of my home. His gaze flickers over to me before returning to the road, "You can take one at my place," He says with a smile. I feel my lips part and my eyebrows raise in surprise, "Your place is in the opposite direction," He reasons,

"Okay," I agree with him. Somewhere along the time of the drive, his hand met mine at the center console, lacing our fingers together, a warm buzzing feeling taking over my body. Part of me questioned if this was really happening, if I was granted permission to love a man I always held feelings for. If he was responding with the same raw emotion. Another part of me scolded the questions and demanded that I let go of stress and meaningless curiosity, and just love him. I decided to follow the latter.


	4. Chapter 4

Turns out, that Peter made quite a large sum of money, his apartment, a studio, which was nothing short of simple yet luxurious. The floors were light oak hardwood slabs, the walls a concrete grey, the upstairs area was his bedroom and the shower. Downstairs held the common commodities like a kitchen and livingroom adjacent to it. Both next to the glass wall, giving view of beautiful, damaged Chicago. There was a large flat screen T.V. mounted on the wall, with a few pictures, above a stand holding books and an assortment of CD's and movies. Though he doesn't give off the read of watching a large amount of social media. The lights that hung from the ceiling were simple, wrapped in tinted light brown glass, giving off a much softer hue on the surfaces than that of normal lights.

Upstairs, was as he said, his bedroom and bathroom. He had a large king sized bed, the sheets a burgundy and grey pattern. He had a steel dresser and closet, and the door that lead to the bathroom, which was a pleasantry in itself. I felt spoiled just by being here, the tiles and counters were a soft blue grey, like ocean stones, smoothed down from the rubbing of water and sand. His shower was a glass rectangle, there was a tub right next to it against the wall, on the other side of the shower, hidden by the wall, was the toilet. A mirror covered the wall above the sink. Peter had everything nicely organized, telling me that he was now a very well kept person.

Then the question arises in me, what does he do for a living? Most of us were paid compensation by what remained of Erudite, the pay was generous, enough to last about two years along with payments to an apartment and other necessary things, but that would only last so long, I was given a tithe as well, but being wiser I sought out jobs to better hold myself. By the way that Peter lives, I assume he did the same thing. Seeing the question on my lips he complies with an answer, "I know, this place is a little much isn't it?"

"That's a bit of an understatement," I say with a smile,

"I wanted something small, but when I saw this place I fell in love,"

"How much was it?" I ask him, running my fingers along the wall, "I've been looking to upgrade," I admit,

"Well, because I bought the place, it was a bit more but I don't mind," He informs, "Something close to thirteen thousand," He offers with a shrug. I feel my lips part, for a small space like this I would call it a rip off, but with the view and the luxury feel, I suppose the pricing is fair for someone buying. "What do you work as?"

"A few jobs, but the current ones are Valet parking, and construction, well, more so as roofing on houses and fixing driveways. Nothing too major like skyscrapers," He explains with a smile. His teeth impossibly white and his lips still soft, my mind goes back to him kissing me against his car, and it takes a bit longer to correct myself. I focus on his professions, both are physically taxing, but we used to be Dauntless so he might be used to it. The pay might be great for his physical labor, and all that work could be rewarding for his body. But he's taking disciplinary classes and talking to psychologists, so hard laboring jobs might have been recommended. Yet, his reflexes were faster than what a normal job like that would allow, either the adrenaline in him was that strong, or he's also been going to the gym.

My eyes skim his body, he shed his coat and disposed it on the back of the couch, making way for how his dress shirt hugs his shoulders and torso. Peter was always physicaly and sexualy attractive, but that wasn't the reason that I fell in love with him. He kept going, he was smart, resourceful, daunting, he played the trickster in the war and those instincts kept him alive. But what really got to me, was how many times he let me see the side of him that actually had feelings, ones that could get someone to cry in sadness or scream in fear. Sometimes he had snapped and I recall I had always been scared, of his anger, and his lack of self control. However, there had been times that I resisted hugging him, because he seemed so lonely at times, scared, unsure of what would happen next, like any normal sixteen year old would. And through all of that, he changed, he grew up fast like I was forced to, into a better person. I admire him for his hard work, and respect him for what he's gone through.

His words break my remembrance, "Can I get you anything? Something to drink maybe?"

"Water would be nice," I say, "Thank you,"

"Guess you don't drink do you? Working at a bar," I can hear the smile in his voice, even though his back is turned towards me. "Nope, I'd like not to get so drunk I start dancing on a table thank you," I admit with a giggle, he turns to me with a grin etched on his face, "I don't know Tris, it might be nice to loosen up a bit," I shoot him a look as he sits down in front of me, "Are you saying we should get drunk?" A devilish grin finds his face,

"Maybe, maybe not, and we?" I shrug and sip at my water,

"I've never been drunk before," At this, Peter laughs, I find myself grinning at his carefree and relaxed nature, now that all threats are out of the picture. "Wow Tris," He says after he's calmed, "What is it?" I ask him,

"You've been injected with way too much peace serum, but never been drunk," He smiles and shakes his head at me, as if he can't believe it. I roll my eyes, "In my defense, they had a hard time holding me down, I guess they gave me too much for that reason as well," We share a laugh, and it feels good, to be in such relaxing bliss. He shakes his head again, his eyes clouded in memory, "You were always feisty,"

"Were?" I say, "I still am," I tell him, sure of my locked tight rage. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "No way," He cooes in disbelief. I nod, confident in knowing myself. "What might it take to elicit this, feistiness?" The air, is suddenly thick with something primal, my eyes snap to his and I replay his words in my head. His tone was suggestive, and his eyes are a darker green, beautiful, but looking strange to me. He's playing with me, so I'll play back, I wet my lips and lower my voice enough for him to tell, "That's for you to find out, I can't just tell you. Where's the fun in that?" He smirks,

"I'm sure over dinner I could get you to tell me, maybe bribe you,"

"I think you'll have to experiment more than anything else," I say to him, he's eyeing me in a different way than what he ever has, for the first time, our lust is open. Much like our passion was against the car, the feeling thick and getting my skin to tingle and ache to be touched. His eyes flick upstairs and I take this time to break from the heaviness that presses on the room. I get to my feet and place the glass on the counter, aware of him standing next to me and placing his hand at the small of my back.

I turn and am met with his lips, my eyes shut in surprise and my body melts into heat. His hands find my waist and mie find his hair, easily tangling gently in it. He doesn't waste time with running his tongue on my bottom lip, a feeling I'll never get used to. Everything burns with want of more from him, so I part my lips, with a careful caress he tastes my lips and tongue. The feeling foreign to me, making me moan, causing him to pick up the pace. His hands moving to my hips and back to my rear pulling me closer. His heat rubbing off in waves to me, I involuntarily shiver. We pull away for air and I attempt to open my eyes, but they only make it halfway because his lips have found my neck, I don't want it to end, the immense feeling of pleasure he gives me, in fact I want more. His lips hit in between my collar and neck, the feeling is serene but then he sucks at the skin and I moan lightly. His hands have returned to my hips, and he grips them to steady himself. HIs lips move lower and a sudden feeling of alertness overcomes me, but out of pleasure his name only comes out as a whisper.

He stops, smiling against my skin, my heart struggling to slow down. But after a minute or so of catching our breath, I manage, "I should probably go take a shower," He laughs lowly and lightly against me, his chest vibrating. "Maybe you should, I forgot about the reservation," He admits, I smile. Pulling away from him I see him holding a blissful grin. "Maybe you should take one too, after the scuffle," I say.

"I might just take one with you Tris," He jokes, looking at me. I shake my head and grab my bag, heading upstairs to his shower. I close the door and strip, making note of how fast he brings arousal to me. I turn the water warm and shamelessly use his soap, wondering just how far he would take it. Wondering just what we are exactly. Thinking of him and what he's doing now. I cut the water after rinsing off, and grab a towel. Drying off quickly and wrapping the towel around me again before walking out of the bathroom. Peter, stands in his room looking stressed as he talks on the phone. He doesn't see me at first so I just listen to him, "Yes yes, we will be there in an hour… Yes, still a table for two… That would be nice," He turns around and I swear his jaw drops. I offer a smile as I hear the voice on the other end struggling to get his attention, "Y-yes, as planned… We will arrive in an hour, under the same name… No, that won't be necessary… Goodbye," He ends the call, not tearing his eyes from me.

I smirk at his obvious struggle with my naked form, well, almost naked. His eyes skim my bare legs, which thankfully I shaved today before going to work. All the way up to my face, or more so the exposed skin of my neck, with my hair to one side and the bare, wet, I can't imagine the amount of control he must hold. "Peter?" He snaps from his observations looking at me, "Are you still going to take a shower?" He runs a hand through his hair and smiles, "I suppose I should," Shaking my head at him, my feet carry me towards him. He straightens, but when I kiss him, he relaxes and puts his arms around me, and his hand on the back of my head. I pull away, making the exchange long enough to tease him, and short enough to still give him pleasure. He looks at me only in what I could describe as awe. "You always look beautiful Tris, and right now you're breathtaking, I'm a little scared of what you will look like with that dress of yours," He says to me in a hushed tone. I'm reminded again that Peter isn't all lust with me, the thought of us being more than what we are now excites me. But I don't let him know that, instead, I smile and giggle and say, "I'm sure, you'll like it, and as much as you might love seeing me drop the towel, we could start our night earlier if we manage our time. And then, possibly, we could do something more afterwards," He breathes in deeply, weighing his options,

"You make a good bargain Tris," He hums, then he presses his lips to mine again. It's short but sweet, and always enough to make me grin. He pulls away, walking towards his bathroom, but being the sneaky bastard he was, he pulled the towel from my body in one swift motion. With a shocked squeal I spun behind him, out of his view and pushed him towards the bathroom. Both of us laughing the whole way. The fun was over when I pulled the door shut behind him, and he continued to protest on the other side. Soon however, I heard the water start to run and heard his clothes being discarded. I took this as my signal to get ready a smile still playing on my lips.

Quickly I pulled on my black underclothes which were soft lace, I got to work on my hair while it was wet, sticking it up carefully in bouffant bun. Being satisfied with it, I made my make up classical, adding a bronze natural shade of shadowing, no mascara needed, nor lipstick. Happy with the outcome I then carefully slipped on my dress, the dark grey silky cotton showing just how pale my skin is, but still being incredibly comfortable. It's a turtleneck sleeveless maxi dress, down to my ankles with a slit in between my shoulderblades. It loosely hugs my figure, but I could easily fall asleep in this ataire due to it's high comfort level. Simple diamond studs are my earrings.

I'm slipping on my black leather strapped heels when his bathroom door opens, a cloud of steam rolling out right after. Peter, steps out with his hair dripping wet and messy but slicked back, he only wears a towel around his waist and I feel my body heat up. I look away, focusing on the task at hand as he walks to his closet, which is right in front of me. He drops the towel, my hands fly to my eyes, I'm not embarrassed, I just know that I'll no longer have control of myself once I see him. "P-Peter," I stutter, I hear him chuckle and open his closet and his dresser drawers. I hear him slide on some clothes and I spread my fingers when I hear the whip of a belt. Peter, still shirtless, is wearing black dress pants, and light grey-blue striped boxers shorts. He's zipping up his pants and putting the belt through the loops with some difficulty, the crease between his eyebrows defines his frustration. I get up, my heels clicking against the hardwood, and assist him. Keeping my eyes on my hands rather than his hips, or the defined v dipping under his boxers, or his abs that still have water on them. I feel his eyes burning into me as I help him, then I mumble, "Must you be so straightforward? Changing in front of me," He chuckles,

"Initiation made us shower together, change in front of each other, I don't see what the problem is,"

"I don't know Peter," I say, "Preserving self image for someone you might find later in life?" I offer,

"Abnegation doesn't exist anymore Tris," He says, and he's right, but I'm not able to control myself with him, I'm about to respond when I feel his warm rough fingers on my chin, making me look up at him, "Besides Tris, I've preserved myself for three years for someone, and now I have the chance to let her look at me in all the ways I dreamed of," I wet my lips, not sure what to say to that, because again, Peter has shocked the words from my lips. My first thought is that he's lying so he can get into my pants, my eyes find his and search frantically for a trace of dishonesty. I find none. "Tris, I mean it, I'm not messing with you, I wouldn't lie to you," He mumbles gently,

"You, want… Me?" I ask him,

"Only you Tris," I feel my knees get weak and tears threaten to ruin my make up, not that I care about some pretty powder. I must have fallen because suddenly his arms are around me, holding me closer to him than I was originally. "Steady there Tris," He says with a smile. No amount of kisses or love songs could let him know how much I actually love him, how long I secretly wanted to hear him say he wanted me in the way that I did him. I look back up at him, at his devilishly handsome face, at his lush deep green eyes, at his messy black hair. I resist saying those three words, as I have been resisting even in my dreams, because up until now, I never thought it actually possible. Him loving me back.

Now that my ears have sampled sweet words and promises of a better life from the man I've always been fond of, it feels liberating. Much like breaking the glass to the tank of water, that threatened to drown me in my own fear and secrets. His confessions were very similar to that, to the small crack and then shattered pane that you could see through but never get through. Peter kept me steady, always in the war, not Four. It was always him that held onto me.


	5. Chapter 5

When we were walking into the restaurant, I felt I underdressed, there were high ceilings and chandeliers and all of the walls were painted either a soft maroon color or decorated with skilled portraits of hunts with men on horses, or a forested area with deer. The lights were dim, and the tables dark in contrast with it. Peter places his hand at the small of my back as we approach the escort, she's small with black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her brown eyes light up with awe when they land on Peter, something twinges in me as a reaction. There is no denying that Peter could be handsome enough to compare to the angel Michael, and it is because of this reason that I chose to ignore the envious, jealous and immature glare the girl gave me. She plastered a cheeky smile to her face, "Do you have a reservation?" Her eyes observed Peter, he moved his hand from the small of my back to lace our fingers together. Could he feel my burning tension towards this no older than 17 girl.

Yes, Peter and I were only 19, but the scars on our minds made us look older and more mature. The girl only allowed her gaze to flick to our hands once, the corners of her lips faltering from her smile. Peter spoke up, no doubt noticing her actions as well, "Hayes," She diligently looked down, she grinned deviously when her eyes stopped searching, "Mr. Peter Hayes," Again, she frowned as she continued reading, "Reservation for two," Reluctantly, she crouches and takes two black leather menus from the wooden shelf in front of her. Standing back up, she leads the both of us quickly to a table. Not casting a second glance to me, Peter sits gracefully across from me. "Can I get you anything to start off with?" With a curt shake of his head, she walked off.

Peter, did not release my hand and caressed the top of my hand with his thumb. My eyes land on his face, his are cast down to our hands. Eyeing them wistfully, his features almost take my breath away each time I look at him, he didn't shave his face in the shower, and in this light I can almost a 5 o'clock shadow forming. I didn't think Peter could grow facial hair, and there's something incredibly attractive in the burly look. His eyelashes are longer and darker than most men I've ever seen, and his eyes more vibrant, Peter obviously took care of his body in the time that we didn't see one another. Where as I withered and struggled while they were rebuilding. The walls were still up, all of it but one part, which, the Dauntless rebels had destroyed. Including me. "Tris?"

My eyes snapped back to his, "Yes? I'm sorry, I was thinking," He only smiled gently,

"Not about what you're going to order I assume?" While I know he was attempting to make me smile, I couldn't bring myself to do so. Even here, dark memories could reach me, even when the man I had always wanted now sits in front of me, giving me a concerned look. Memories and regrets pass over me faster than a bullet. "Tris?" He asks softly, I squeeze his hand, hard enough to let him know that I'm there, light enough to let him know that I'm okay. Working my brain to focus on something else, my eyes scan the menu, amazingly though, out of all of the items presented, I decide on spaghetti.

I assume this is funny to Peter, because when I order it and she walks away, he laughs so hard his face goes red. I smile slightly, taking a sip of the iced water I ordered. "So," Peter says when he's calmed down, "Do you think they'll take down the rest of the wall?" I nearly feel my jaw drop. My eyes widen and water, the war was always a sensitive topic for me, and I never held the chance to talk about it because of feuds with friends and the obvious with Four. I shake my head, "I don't think so, they're allowing people to pass through the straight, but I think thats the most that will happen," He cocks an eyebrow up to show he's interested. I oblige and sate his curiosity, "Sure, 'people' are being let through, but those are only scout parties and soldiers. The citizens of Chicago are terrified, the war messed everything up, even-"

"What about some twenty years from now?" I contemplate his question,

"They would start to, for the sake of naievity and false security, no one really knows whats out there. We could have yet another war started out of fear," He nods,

"So you don't really have faith in the city, do you?" Grammatically it was a question, from his tone it was more of a direct observation stated as a fact. I nodded anyway, he kept silent until our food arrived, I nodded my thanks at the waiter, who was a stunning young man. Not as appealing as Peter, but certainly not bad on the eyes. Peter, seemed to notice me open ogling of the young man, to which I earned an almost glare. I wet my lips out of nervousness and picked up my fork, "What about next generation?" He asks me, when I swallow my first bite. The food is delicious, but I'm too distracted by his question to savor it, "Excuse me?"

"What about the next generation, do you believe that they will change anything?" I stare at him, taking in all he is and his meaning behind the question, he means the children that most of the war survivors will have. Meaning us. A moment later I nod, "Yes, they will change everything," He looks at me with a sort of awe before nodding, a small smile on his face as he goes back to eating. That is, until I excuse myself to the restroom. He nods and I walk towards the back where I saw the sign. I'm done and washing my hands when I hear the door creak open. At first I think it's nothing, just another girl, however, the ripple of aggression in the atmosphere makes the hair at the back of my neck stand on end. I attempt to ignore it, but the girl does not move, I watch the mirror and pretend to fix up my makeup. What I see shocks me, it's the escort girl. Her posture is stiff, and her eyes an electric blue that burns into my skin. Without my consent my body switches into a weapon, like the girl from the war. The girl is holding something behind her, half up her sleeve, being held up with her thumb. Smart. I turn to her, "Can I help you?"

"I know who you are," She says it as if it's meant to scare me,

"And who might I be?" I can't help the curl of my lips as adrenaline is released,

"You're Beatrice Prior, you're the one who destroyed the faction system, disturbed the peace!" She declares, her eyes wide with a thrill of knowledge,

"What faction were you from?" I ask her, though my tone is nothing short of an order,

"Erudite," I size her up, knowing that I could take her easily,

"And?" I say, getting short with her, knowing full well that Erudite members bask in their supposed glory, "And," She croaks as her eyes water, "I'm going to set things right," With that I hear the smooth click of a knife and the grainy rip of cloth. Then she's running at me with a knife in her hand, I stay unmoving, already seeing her weaknesses. Her core is wide open and her arm isn't positioned right for her to do any real damage. She's putting all of her power in running at me, I frown, dissatisfied with the challenge.

She thrusts her arm towards my throat, I sidestep and slam my forearm against hers, grabbing her inner elbow and pulling her off balance. She screeches as she's thrown off weight onto the floor. She snarls at me furiously, getting back on her feet and trying a different approach. Rushing at me with her arm slightly bent, if she were to spin and land her blade into my stomach I wouldn't last long. Having enough of her antics I sidestep again on the side of the blade, she would have less power that way, but my foot catches her ankle. With a fatal gasp she falls, I grab her hair and the blade, forcing her to her feet and holding the metal to her neck. She freezes when it touches her neck, I lean down and hiss in her ear, not recognising the ferocity in my voice, "So if you know who I am, then you know what faction I transferred to,"

"D-Dauntl-l-less…" She trembles,

"Do you recall what my rank was?" She remains silent, but she's still shaking, she hasn't passed out yet, "First,"

"That was because of your Divergence!" She squeals,

"Stop it," I order, she complies, "You think me a tyrant? That I murdered Erudites beloved Jeannie Matthews? No, she demanded control over Abnegation and the government. She hunted Divergents as animals, I lost friends, allies, lovers, because of her selfishness. She captured me even, though I escaped with the help of someone on the inside- tell me, because you must know already, who was it?"

"N-No one saw, only Four was seen!" She spits, I pause, Peter wasn't seen? I suppose that would be good if people were to attack him. "You Erudite were smart, you obviously wouldn't rush a first marked Divergent Dauntless without someone to back you, so who is it that you work for?" She shudders and laughs,

"As if I would tell you, all of you 'war heroes' are being slowly taken out, soon the Faction systems will be up, and theres nothing you Divergents can do about it," She speaks with malice and confidence, I narrow my eyes and jerk my shoulder, she screams. I didn't hurt her, only flinched, "Remember, we 'war heroes' as you've said, will always hold the knives, always hold the gun with our finger resting on the trigger. Relay back to your organization, from the mouth of Tris Prior, should you hunt us down, you'll know what it feels like to have the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head," I hear her swallow thickly and I shove her head forward, spinning the pocket knife in my palm before clicking it closed. "I'm keeping this," I tell her, and then strut back to the table.

Peter is sitting up straight, he turns when he hears the heels clicking against the tile. "Tris," He breathes, I offer a smile, forcing all aggression down. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I apologize, he shakes his head, "No, I was starting to worry," I laugh a little, my mind racing in panic. Erudite is hunting the war survivors, no, not just Erudite, an unknown group. Stress piles up and I finish my meal as an attempt to calm my nerves. The girl said that Peter wasn't caught on camera, so he's safe, hope springs in me that others might be able to flee from yet another purge. My thumb rubs the slick black titanium handle out of anxiety. "Tris?" Peter once again, snaps me from the horrors of my mind. "Yes?"

"Are you ready to get out of here?" I smile at him and nod,

"Yes, let's go," We rise and he takes my hand. A few minutes later, we're paying the check, and leaving. On the way out Peter pulls me closer and whispers in my ear, "You looked beautiful tonight Tris, thank you," I offer a loving smile and kiss him, short and sweet. We both pull back, from the kiss but not each other. He pulls me into a tight warm hug, the cold still night air nipping at my skin, but his body is warm and I couldn't care less about the world right now. "No Peter," I mumble into his chest, the emotions of tonight welling in my eyes. Four, the playfulness between Peter and I, the Erudite girl, and the date. "Thank you," I whisper, well aware that I'm getting his suit wet, he doesn't really seem to care though.

Walking up to his door, the thought dawns on me, "Are you sure you want me to stay here?" I weigh the question heavily, my rage has built up so much that I almost flip into a different person. I don't want him to ever be caught in the crosshairs of that vile ferocity. He looks at me, taking in all my flaws and perfections. Studying my body and all I am. I don't grow uncomfortable under his gaze, if anything my body screams to be seen without all the clothes. My eyes lock with his, frost coating the flourished bursting with life green. Then suddenly his arms are around my waist and my hands are in his dark hair, his lips melding against mine. The deep ache of passion coursing through our bodies, I involuntarily humm at the explosion of lust, I want more but seemingly sensing this, Peter pulls away, "I always want you here," He mumbles, then he leans down and kisses my forehead. I sigh happily and he opens the door.

It's when we're both washing up that I tell him about the restroom fiasco. "The escort girl was Erudite," He glances at me in the mirror, I wipe my eyes to be rid of the make up. "She attacked me, in the restroom," Peter stares at me, alarmed. "She tried to kill me, and told me that the war wasn't over,"

"What do you mean?" He asks gruffly,

"We're being hunted, well, not you, you weren't seen helping me escape Jeannie," I finish wiping my face in silence, leaving Peter to contemplate the severity of the attack. "Peter," I mumble, "I'm scared, I can't handle another war, I can't lose yo-" His arms pull me into a bonecrushing hug, I want to cry but I dont. "Tris, you're not going to lose me, I'll keep you safe," And we stay like that, holding each other as if we won't ever again. After some time I mumble to him, "Peter?" He hums in response, making his chest rumble, "I love you," I tell him. He pulls away to look at me, his eyes searching mine before he smiles and says, "I love you too."

I have no radical explanation as to how we ended up in his bed, both of us stripped to our underclothes. His lips moving against mine and the smell and feel of him flooding my senses, the urgency of his hands keeping me rooted and responsive. The cooled air of the room soothing my skin to react, the feel of him in me overloading my mind with sensations I didn't even know existed. The feel of his bare skin against mine, heat and lust melding our ecstasy together, our climax was phenomenal and I felt no shame in crying out his name from pleasure. The only thing I do know is the aftermath, which, admittedly happened after three rounds.

I know that I've wanted this, always wanted the feel of him and I close without anything between us, other than our primal feelings. I know that I love him, that I always have, it is unknown to me why I chose now to admit it. Maybe it is out of fear for the constant threat of a massive war. Or maybe it's the feeling of waiting too long. I know I'm done waiting. I'm ready to be steady on my feet, even if I need a little help from Peter.

**The End!**


End file.
